


Park Bench

by Tickette



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Denial, Domestic Violence, Friendship, Gen, Hidden pain, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Marriage, Park Bench, Smoking, Strangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-07-17 09:05:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16092443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tickette/pseuds/Tickette
Summary: Castiel eacapes his life on a park bench where he meets a friend who saves his life.





	1. Chapter 1

Part 1

***

Castiel sat on the park bench at the southwest end of the Springfield Park by the dog field. He was watching as people came and went on this late October evening. He had been sitting there for the past hour wondering if it was safe to go back home. He touched his top lip to find it had started bleeding again. He pulled the dish towel he ran out of the house with out of his jacket pocket and dabbed at his split lip, the bloody towel rough against his raw skin. He winced at the pain it caused but kept it firmly pressed pressed against the cut. He had to stop the bleeding before anyone noticed.

Castiel blinked at the setting sun ablaze in reds, oranges, and pinks with a touch of blues. This bench had the best view for sunsets in autumn and winter. The leaves had just started to fall the past few weeks and the air had a nice bite to it. Castiel actually liked this time of year. He loved the crunch of the leaves and the spectacular colors. Tonight he could not enjoy the beauty as he often did. Tonight he dropped a plate and got reprimanded for it shattering. Tonight he would also get punished for running. He always got punished for leaving, but he could not stop himself. Castiel had to get away when Amelia got so angry, and she got angry so easily lately.

Castiel was jolted out of his thoughts when he felt the bench shift. Someone had sat down on the other end. He glanced over at the person. He saw a man, several years younger than himself wearing a leather jacket and jeans. Castiel was glad it was not a woman. Women always talked. They would catch a glimpse of an injury or blood, sympathetic as they can be, and had to ask. Men, on the other hand, would look away, nod, or not even acknowledge him, and from the looks of it this guy was doing the latter. Castiel gave an inward sigh and shoved the towel back into his pocket. He was glad it was getting dark so the blood could not be easily seen.

Castiel watched as the last of the colors of the sunset faded to deep blues. I better get back, he thought with another sigh. He stood and zipped his jacket the rest of the way up then pulled the hood over his head as the wind had picked up. Castiel jumped when the man next to him spoke.

“What?” Castiel asked looking at the man through his hair that fell over into his eyes. He was careful not to look people directly in the face.

“Time? Do you have the time?” the man repeated, his voice deep and smooth. His face was without hard lines, though it was masculine with a strong jaw. He was turned in his seat towards Cas, his arm on the back of the bench.

Castiel was glad that this bench was one of those larger ones that could easily seat four people spread out. He picked this bench for the view; location and the size was a bonus. He did not like people getting too close, not that people sat as close as they did on TV shows or movies. Castiel nodded his head and pulled out his watch from his jean’s pocket. He liked this watch with its analog face. It was a knock-off Rolex his brother and sister bought for him as a joke, but Castiel liked it anyway. When the band broke he just carried in his pocket, it was easier. No, that was a lie. Amelia said he did not need the cheap watch and to throw it away. To be really honest, it was the last thing he had that reminded him of his family and could not bear to part with it.

“Um, six-thirty-seven,” Castiel answered. Shit. I had no idea it was so late.

Castiel left when the man said thanks. He walked swiftly towards his home. Amelia would be waiting. She hated waiting. She hated disruptions to her life. Breaking a plate was a disruption. She was a troubled woman and he made a vow.

**********

The day after Halloween Castiel sat on the bench. He was out earlier than normal this evening; his usual has been to take a walk right after finishing the supper dishes. He remembered talking to his wife about his doctor telling him to get more exercise and his plan to walk during lunch, but she did not want him out in the heat of the day. He did not understand that because it was Autumn, however she was so caring and concerned about him that day, so he relented.

Tonight, however, Castiel fled after Amelia threw the Shepherd's Pie at him. She had been furious at a coworker that had screwed up the scheduling at the hospital for the next month because he had broken his leg and was on medical leave. It was not Cas’ fault, but he had to take the brunt of her anger. Lucky for him it was just a few slaps and a casserole that was thrown at him. He had a fresh cut on his forearm and maybe first or second degree burns on his hands, but nothing major. 

He sat watching as a breeze picked up the fallen leaves and blew them across the dog field. Dogs were allowed all over the park and town as long as they were on a leash, but for running and play, this field was set up for them. Castiel enjoyed watching the dogs run and play. He always wanted a dog, but Amelia said no. She hated pets of any kind.

Castiel was the rubbing his burnt hands together wishing he had some aloe to put on them when he felt the bench shift. He looked over to his left and there was a man sitting there smoking a cigarette. Castiel hated the smell and the smoke affected his breathing, but he was not going to say anything. He noticed it was the same man from a couple of weeks ago. Nothing really remarkable about him, but he remembered the leather jacket and his spiky blond hair.

The man turned to Castiel and smiled. He had a nice smile. Castiel almost smiled back, but caught himself and quickly turned away. He remembered that Amelia was always reminding him how he was staring at people, insisting that it was creepy and unnerving. Instead he looked back out over the field as the sun dipped low to touch the horizon. He was glad for such a beautiful stretch of nature in this urban setting.

Castiel squinted towards the sun as it had started to set. Clouds drifted across the big, shiny disk, making it easier to enjoy. He wanted to take a picture, then thought maybe he could paint it. It had been so long since he had even picked up a brush. He always enjoyed the art of painting: capturing the essence of a scene, bringing in his feelings, blending it with his sight, creating something original, yet representing what he saw. He felt the pulse of need inside him and it made his hands twitch with the desire to create. He breathing hitched at the idea of getting some paints and a canvas. He sat for a few moments, lost in his imagination, choosing the colors he would mix to capture the beauty of the dying sunset, which brushes to employ, the need of artist blades to get the knife edged contrasts of light and dark, before he suddenly deflated. Castiel remembered why he had stopped painting. Amelia was not impressed with his paintings, comparing them to the works in museums she had seen once upon a time, and did not think he should waste his time.

The last ray of sunshine dipped below the horizon. Castiel wondered if Amelia was in her bath yet. He needed to clean up the dining room and put away the food that was left on the table. 

“Dude, what time is it?”

Castiel was startled out of his thoughts by that warm, deep voice. The one belonging to the man in the leather jacket. Castiel had forgotten he had sat down on the bench with him. He turned a slightly wide-eyed look to find the man grinning at him, arm casually sling over the back of the bench again. He blinked at him then dug his watch out of his pocket.

“Six-twenty-two.” 

“Thanks, man.” The man nodded then got up, stubbing out his cigarette butt. With a flick to the trash can, he left.

Castiel sighed, eyes trailing the man as he strolled away. He wished he could stroll away so casually. He blinked, shook his head to rid himself of the thought, and turned back to the deepening dusk of the day. Twilight would not last long this time of year and he had better get home.

*****


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of October up to Thanksgiving. Castiel and Dean formally meet.

***

It hurt to move. Every step was agony, sending jolts of pain across Cas’ back, over his shoulders, down his arms. Amelia had taken a wire hanger and whipped him with it because he was late coming home from work this evening. He tried to explain that his boss needed the quarterly report but she would not listen. He begged her to stop but she just screamed at him how selfish he was for leaving her alone and wanting to be anywhere but home.

It had been Amelia who suggested he work from home part time after they first got married. She told him he was too easily distracted and it was making his work suffer. So Castiel asked for two days at home and his work performance improved. Then a year later, she told him the reason he did not get the promotion he complained about was that he could not fully concentrate. He needed his own space, she said, free from the petty atmosphere that was the norm in public offices. Thus he requested and was granted three days to work at home and he was promoted within the next year. Finally she demanded he work from home permanently stating that he should have been a partner by now, but he was having a hard time justifying it because he only lived thirty minutes away. He was lucky that he only had to go in two days a week. 

By the time Castiel collapsed onto his bench it was later than usual and he was exhausted. The cold November sky was clear and in defiance of the full moon, so many stars shone brightly in above him. There was not as much light pollution at this end of the park due to the several security lights being burnt out, including the one by his bench. Castiel did not mind, it kept his bench more private in the evenings. He could rest in peace for awhile. 

Tonight he wished on the brightest stars for answers to his often asked questions. Why is she so angry? His prayers were rote. God, please give me strength in her time of need. Castiel was hurting in his mind as well as his body. What have I done? Why can I not be the husband she deserves? Have I become so selfish that I cannot see her pain? 

“Do you have a light?”

So caught up in his own head that Castiel barely noticed that someone sat down on the other end of the bench. He did not connect that deep, rumbly voice was directed at him until he heard it again. 

“Dude, do you have the time?”

Castiel turned his head this time. The full moon was near its zenith, illuminating the man and bathing him it’s soft glow. It was the same man from the other day. Castiel missed him, the man with the easy smile, the deeply pleasant voice, who seemed so kind. 

When did I last see him? Last week? The week before? Why does he not come more often? 

He smiled slightly as he stared at the man who was gazing expectantly at him for his answer. Castiel stiffly reached for his pocket and pulled out his watch.

“It's seven-oh-nine,” Castiel said, his hand was trembling slightly. 

“Thanks. It gets dark so early this time of year.” The man had such a pleasant smile, so inviting. 

“Yes, Autumn is leaving and winter will be upon us soon,” Castiel replied wanting to smile back, but bit his lip when a sharp pain shot through his shoulder as he pocketed his watch. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath trying to both ignore it and block the memory of what caused it.

“That’s one way of putting it,” the man chuckled, digging through his pockets. “Damn it. Hey, do you have a light?” 

“No, I apologize,” Castiel replied. He knew the man was laughing at him. Amelia always said he talked too pompous and too pretentious. He never meant to be that way. He took careful pains to choose the right words and yet he always seemed to pick the wrong ones. He let out a sigh as he looked back at the man. “I do not smoke.” 

The man’s expression went from smiling to frowning. “Are you okay, man?” 

Castiel did not like the change in the man's expression. He suddenly had a funny look on his face, a mix of concern and confusion. That look meant questions, questions Castiel did not want to answer. The man leaned in causing Castiel to back away. He felt the arm of the bench bite into the cuts on his back, flaring fresh pain.

“I’m fine,” Castiel said too quickly, then stood and swayed, shuffling a bit to steady his feet. He held his head to stop the sudden bout of dizziness. When he looked up man was now standing in front of him. Startled, Castiel gasped and took a step back. He wished he was wearing more than his undershirt under his wool coat, because some of the cuts started to bleed again and Amelia would be angry about the stains.

The man put up his hands and stepped back as well. “Hey, man, it's okay. I’m not gonna do nothing. It’s just... You don't look none too stable. You have one to many?” His chuckle seemed accusatory.

Castiel grabbed the lamp post next to the bench to stop the world from tilting. Castiel narrowed his eyes, set his mouth in a thin line. How dare he judge me. How dare he accuse me of drinking! 

“Seriously, dude, are you okay?” 

Castiel carefully shook his head and looked back at the man, who now sounded concerned. Castiel saw the pity behind that question and he hated that. He stepped away from the lamp post in defiance of the man’s opinion. No way he was going to be seen as weak by anyone, let alone this man, this stranger. He straightened his back and drew back his shoulders, even though they screamed in pain and said through gritted teeth, “I'm fine.” 

The man reached for him when he swayed again, but stopped when Castiel held up his right hand. He did not need help, he did not need anyone. Castiel turned heel and left without saying anything anything else, concentrating hard on keeping his feet moving in a straight line. He did not see the man’s reaction. Castiel wiped at his eyes to clear them from the blurriness and his fingers came back wet. 

When did that start? Fuck! That must have been what he was asking about. Me, a grown man crying. Shit, no wonder he thought I am weak.

Castiel went home and slept on the couch.

******

It was the Monday before Thanksgiving and Castiel was sitting bundled up on the bench again. This day was dipping into the lower forties and he was glad for his double breasted, wool coat. A breeze had him thankful he grabbed his leather gloves and woolen toboggan. Castiel had hoped that it would have snowed by now, but alas, nothing. 

Amelia had been in a better mood the last couple of weeks. Maybe it was the fact he was now working completely from home. Maybe it was the promotion she got last week. Maybe it was the upcoming holiday. Maybe it was her family coming to visit. Castiel liked Amelia’s family. They were nice and rowdy; reminded him of his family. He missed his brothers and sisters dearly, but he chose Amelia as per the scriptures. 

I wonder where they are having their holiday this year? They had rotated whose home each would be. Castiel had never got to host in his home. He had always gotten their invitations, of which they had attended exactly once since they were married. Amelia had explained she was extremely uncomfortable and deeply stressed being at other people’s homes during the holidays. He had wanted her to feel welcomed and loved, but she had insisted she felt like an outsider. She hadn’t been herself, distant, tense, crying, snapping at him for days after. Castiel had been beside himself to help her. It had seemed to have affected his wife deeply and took months for her to get over the trauma. 

After the catastrophe of their first Novak holiday and subsequent discussions with his siblings, who were too confused over his spouse’s reactions, the family had then started to exchange holiday letters. Every year at each holiday and family event, Castiel had eagerly awaited their correspondences as he mailed his. They had wished him well and hoped to see him soon as they wrote about all that had happened. “Soon” happened only a few times and due to Amelia’s strong aversion to the gatherings, died out completely. And in the last several years, he had not received any communication from his siblings at all. He was shocked on the day he found none of their phone numbers would go through. He was despondent when no one had answered any of his posts he send at each holiday. He had hoped that Anna would at least return one of his letters, she had normally been the first to reply. He preferred the old fashioned way of letter writing; it felt more personal. Castiel never really got the hang of emailing other than for work and he did not know any of their email addresses anyway, they had never got around to exchanging them. He tried to do a search and was reprimanded at work for wasting company resources. He was completely lost when it came to social media. Amelia had tried to explain it to him once but had to give up. She had told him could not understand the intricacies of the internet, his brain just did not work that way. He let out a sigh thinking maybe he should try again, but if they didn't answer one way what made him think they would another? 

Lost in thought, Castiel let his eyes trail a flock of geese cutting a path against the bitter winter sky as they made their annual trek south. He wondered where it was they went each year, how far it was from here before they made their new home, how hard it would be to follow them when he was startled out of his musing by a voice speaking next to him.

“Hey, do you have the time?”

Castiel blinked and looked over to find his frequent bench companion. He was wearing that pleasant smile and the same leather jacket, which seemed inadequate for the weather. He did have a green plaid scarf and some brown jersey gloves with no fingers. Castiel never understood fingerless gloves, his fingers always got too cold. 

Castiel pulled out his watch and smiled when he answered. “Four-thirty.” 

“Hey Mr. Watch!” the man said with a chuckle as he put a cigarette up to his lips. “Here we are again.”

“I'm not - What? My name's not…” Castiel tried to correct but he just sputtered.

The man was distracted anyway, searching his pockets. “Do you have a light? I can't find my lighter.” 

Castiel was about to respond in the negative and remind him that he did not, in fact, smoke when he made a sound of triumph.

“Here it is!” the man said and smiled at Cas, lighting his cigarette.

It was the easy smile of a person who did not seem to have a care in world. It gave Castiel the feeling of being included. And Castiel he resented it, the falseness, the superficial joy. This man had no idea how hard he had to work at not breaking down. How dare he assume everyone was the same as he. How dare he sit there all sprawled out on his end of the bench, smoking and relaxed without a care in the world, expecting people to just smile and revel in his presence. 

“We seem to be meeting here a lot,” the man said with a serious look. He looked around as if to find someone, then he winked at Cas. “Are you following me?”

Castiel was taken aback. How could he ask such a thing? Castiel had no idea who this man was or where he came from. Yes, they had shared the bench a few times, and he did find the man’s voice easy to listen to, but nothing else. How could Castiel be following him?

The man laughed presumably at Cas’ expression. “Don't have a heart attack, man. I'm just messing.” The man had an easy full body laugh that encouraged others, invited him to join. 

Castiel relaxed a little but did straighten his posture. Castiel gave a small, hesitant smile and nodded slightly. “A joke.”

“Dude, you need to lighten up. You’re way too stiff.” He puffed his cigarette and blew the smoke up in the air, away from Cas. “I'm Dean, by the way. Figured I should introduce myself since we're sharing a bench.” He held out his hand.

Castiel just stared. I don't understand. Was he being played with? But the man shared his name, like a friend. But Amelia said he does not make friends, he was too awkward.

“Um, I'm Ja-,” Castiel started as he took the man's hand, then cleared his throat. “I am Castiel. Nice to meet you.” 

Dean’s hand was rough but not harsh with a firm handshake, solid but not lingering. Castiel was almost saddened when he let go. Some of Cas’ business associates like to use the handshake as a battle, as if it meant power, dominance. Castiel found it petty and shallow. 

“You, too, Casteal. Hey, it's early for you. I don't normally see you until after dark. You play hooky from work?” Dean asked with another wink.

Castiel frowned at Dean, debated correcting him, then let it drop. Did not matter, he was much too familiar. Who was he to inquire of his work ethic? 

“Don't mean to pry, just curious.” He shrugged and squinted up into the sky. Castiel looked up to see what caught Dean’s attention. 

Castiel saw an airplane heading northwest. He watched it for a bit then turned back to Dean. He was looking back over his shoulder into the park, as if looking for someone. Castiel glanced over and saw no one. 

“We were given the afternoon off for the upcoming holiday.” Castiel did not know why he was explaining himself. He felt dismissed when Dean said no more. A conversation had started and now nothing. This is the reason he could not make friends, just like Amelia said. He could not deal with his own hot and cold emotions.

“See ya around, Cas.” Dean said as Castiel stood up to leave.

“Goodbye Dean, ” said Castiel automatically then fled. He had grown uncomfortable with the man’s presence and his inability to get his name right.

****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Susanne Becker for betaing this work. She is a great help.


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December, snow, and matches.

Part 3

****

The crisp December evening found Castiel on his bench wearing woolen gloves, his long, green greatcoat, and a pained frown. He shivered as the temperatures dropped into the upper twenties. He cursed himself again for forgetting his toboggan.

Castiel was hurting bad tonight. Amelia had been infuriated by Castiel bringing up his family again. She had tolerated him mentioning them at the Thanksgiving meal, agreeing with him that he needed to try to contact them. However, afterwards when the last of her family had gone home the following Sunday, she laid into him. She had broken two of his fingers on his right hand and bruised several of his ribs on his left side. Castiel could not see out of his right eye, it was so swollen and his had a laceration that went from his bottom lip and down to the bottom of his chin in an almost a perfect diagonal from left to right. He could thank a turkey platter for that one.

Amelia splinted his fingers and put thirteen stitches in his lip and chin the next morning. She told him to ice his eye and allowed him two aspirin four times a day to deal with the pain. Castiel tried to be unassuming and invisible much as he could to let Amelia deal with her anger. He vowed to never bring up his family again.

Now Castiel stared at the deep reds and oranges of the setting sun. The blues and purples were slowly taking over, much like his bruises. He smiled at the simple beauty of the sunset and wondered when was the last time he and Amelia had shared such a sight. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, careful of his splints. He felt the wadded-up handkerchief in one and the loose change and a matchbook in the other. He had no idea why he grabbed the matchbook and put it in his pocket the other day, but there it was.

He heard footsteps and looked over. Not many people in the park since it snowed last night. It was his bench buddy, Dean. Castiel watched as he sat down at his end and nodded to him.

“Hey,” Dean said with just a slight smile gracing his handsome features. He was not his jovial self this evening.

“Hello Dean,” Castiel said as he looked down to his lap quickly; he did not want him to see his abused face. He looked at Dean from under his hair when he replied. “Hey Cas, I thought that was you,” his voice held a note of pleased recognition, maybe. “Didn't recognize the coat.” Dean pulled out a package of cigarettes and was patting down his other pockets.

Castiel held the matchbook in between his fingers, his left arm straight out at his side, and silently offered them to Dean. Castiel watched him in his peripheral vision as the man smiled wider, ceasing his search for his lighter. He took the matches from Castiel's fingers and lit his cigarette. 

“Thanks, man,” he said after he exhaled a stream of smoke. He tried to hand the matchbook back.

Castiel waved his hand dismissively. “You can keep them.”

Dean thanked him as he slipped them into the pocket with the package of cigarettes.  
They sat there for quite a bit just enjoying the silence. Castiel stole a glance at Dean, but not openly stare as he was wanting to do. He was curious why this man chose to sit here time after time. In his four years of coming here, this man was his only repeat sitter.

Castiel did not know what he was doing, but for some reason he believed Dean should not be so quiet. His earlier smile seemed strained. Castiel asked, “You seem preoccupied. Is there something that is upsetting you?” 

Castiel was looking at the man sideways, trying to keep his damaged face hidden. Tonight he did not mind that Amelia like his hair long. His good eye picked up how Dean stiffened at the question. Castiel was ready to flee at any sign of hostility.

Dean took a drag and slowly released the smoke through his nose. He looked as if some tension had eased. “Yeah, man, I'm fine. Just got a lot on my mind.”

Castiel nodded, he understood that. He was debating whether or not to actually go home tonight, though he did not have enough warm clothes, even with the wool coat, to stay out. His feet already felt frozen in his worn athletic shoes and his head hurt from the cold. He wished he had a hat. Words shocked him back out of his thoughts.

“Hey, I said, how are you? You seem out of it.”

“Nothing, I just -” Castiel blinked when Dean gasped. He had a look of shock on his face. Castiel pulled his hands out of his pockets to cover his face. Castiel must have turned to fully face him without thinking.

“Dude, what happened to your face?” Dean leaned in, he had a expression of disgust aimed at Cas.

Fuck!

Castiel had to get out of there. He stood to flee when the man's voice stopped him.

“Shit, I'm sorry, man. I don't mean to be so rude. Sammy’s always getting on my ass about me being so fucking blunt. It's none my business. I don't mean to run you off, Cas.”

Castiel turned to Dean, who was now standing with him, yet kept his distance. Castiel heard how sincere the man's words were. He lowered his head to let his hair fall back over his face. 

“It's okay. I have to go home anyway.” Castiel pulled his watch out of his pants’ pocket and saw it was nearly seven. Since Dean had always asked before, he told him the time. 

“It's six-fifty-two.”

It was Dean’s turn to blink at Cas, then he nodded. “Yeah, it's later than I thought. I came out here to clear my head. Sammy’s full tilt on studying, and it grates, man. All he ever talks about is his damned schoolwork. Then he brings up a trip that he wants to go on during Spring Break. It's some extra credit bullshit.” 

Castiel swayed a bit on his feet, not really sure what he should do. He felt that Dean needed someone right now. 

Dean heaved a big sigh. “I don't know how I'm gonna pay for it. And get this! He's known about it for a month! Damn it, I wished he'd of told me, I would've taken the extra overtime offer this past few weeks. And Sammy’s so excited about it. ‘It’s a BIG opportunity.’ Fuck. I had to get away. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to unload on you. I just…” He looked out over the field for a bit. After a long pause he said, “I like it out here. It's quiet. Let's a man think in peace.”

Castiel nodded and wondered why this man shared with him that information. He looked, really looked at Dean and saw a weariness and a tiredness that comes with working and struggling hard. He could tell Dean loved Sammy, whomever he was, but needed a break. Dean was a caregiver and he needed a listening ear.

“It is nice here.” Castiel shifted from one foot to the other. His ribs were screaming at him for getting up too fast. He tried to slow his breathing to ease the pain. “This bench has the best views for sunsets this time of year. It is pleasant to watch when people bring their dogs during the day. Plus, not many people come out this time of night because it is away from the main strip. And the snow.”

They stood in silence for a while, then Castiel heard the man sit. Castiel sighed and sat back down as well. He really did not want to go home yet.

Castiel cleared his throat, looked at Dean, then looked away. He felt the need to explain, to deflect. “I was in an accident. Nothing major, just a lot of small injuries. It was stupid and I am embarrassed to talk about it.” Castiel looked at Dean who seemed to buy his misdirection with a nod. It was easy because it was not a total lie.

“Sucks Cas. You gotta watch out.”

Castiel nodded then looked back over his left shoulder to the west. He saw clouds rolling in. He nodded on the direction and said, “We may get more snow tonight.”

Dean turned in the indicates direction. “Cool.” 

Dean finished up his last cigarette then stubbed it out. He stood and flicked the butt into the trash can. “I'll see you around, Cas. I gotta go pick up some sodas for my brother. Ice that eye, looked like it hurts like a bitch.”

Castiel stood as well. “Goodbye, Dean.” He waved back when Dean did. He watched as the younger man walked away. Something stirred in him, a weird pull to go after him, as if he did not want their conversation to end. When he could no longer see Dean, Castiel left the park for home.

*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Susanne Becker for betaing this work. She is a great help.


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night, December: Amelia is suspiciousl, Castiel hurts, and Dean complains.
> 
> Castiel allows himself to think about Dean.

*****

The second week of December found Castiel huddled on his bench in the snow. His long trench coat was inadequate for such weather, even with the zip-in liner. Amelia had gotten angry at him leaving to take his walks in the evenings. Castiel told her he would take his walks at lunch time, but she was having none of it. Amelia screamed that he was just trying to get out to see that whore she saw him talking to the week before. He could not get her to understand that the woman was just the UPS driver.

They had a big fight where she accused him of having an affair and wanting a divorce. It took several hours of convincing to get her to believe him that he loved only her and never wanted to leave. He got off with only a few bruises on his back and some scratches on his forearms. Castiel had gotten better at ducking.

Despite his reassurances, Amelia had bars installed on all the windows and the deadbolts replaced with ones that had key locks on both sides the very next day. She took Casiel’s house and car keys and would lock him in the house when she left for work. She also threw away his green greatcoat and his double breasted, wool coat in an effort to keep him from leaving. She had thrown away all his fleece lined leather gloves, wool scarfs, and toboggans. 

Castiel was wondering if he should talk to someone about Amelia’s behavior. She was becoming very erratic and was constantly angry. He often wondered what he would do if the house caught on fire while she was at work. He was trapped in the house all day, it was like prison. There was no way for him to get out.

Castiel did get a lot of work done. His boss could not stop praising him. He also kept asking if Castiel was coming to the company Holiday party and bringing his lovely wife. Castiel put the man off three times so far. He was hoping his bruises from Thanksgiving would be faded a lot more than they were. Also, he had not had an appropriate time to bring it up to Amelia. 

Every evening she seemed to get home a little later. When she was home she was distant and cold. Amelia complained about everything. The house was not clean enough, the food was too bland or too spicy, he wasn't paying her enough attention, or he was smothering her. Castiel was walking around on eggshells most of the time.

Tonight there had been a tense calm at the supper table. Castiel tried to engage her in conversation, as he did every night, but she just answered with a word or two, or flat out ignored him. She left the table after only a few bites and went upstairs. Castiel called out he was going for a walk after he put the food away and washed the dishes. He was met with silence.

Castiel took a longer route to get to his bench tonight. He was thinking about the Christmas holidays and wondered if Amelia wanted to decorate. He remembered how much fun they had in the past. They would wait until December sixth to put up their eight-foot artificial blue spruce tree. He would string the lights as she placed wreaths in every window. They would bake cookies and string popcorn. 

What happened? When was the last time they celebrated anything? Two, three years?

Castiel found himself sitting staring up at the stars before he realized he had actually stopped. He was on his bench as always. His feet just knew where to take him. Castiel smiled a sad smile then looked around. He wondered where Dean was. He pulled out his watch to see that it was already after seven. Amelia had gotten home so late, without a word of why, and it threw off Castiel's walk.

Castiel sighed and tugged his trench coat tighter. He had taken to putting his hoodie on under his coat. It helped a little. At least his head did not hurt with cold with the hood up. No, tonight it hurt from anxiety and stress. What was going on with Amelia?

He pondered awhile then got lost in the twinkling stars and the rising moon above. It was a half moon, yet bright enough to illuminate the park. He wished he could share this with the woman he fell in love with so many years ago. 

Where did you go? Have I pushed you away? I wish you would talk to me.

Castiel sat there for a good hour before he saw anyone. To his surprise Dean sat down. He had been absent this past week.

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel surprised himself for speaking first.

“Oh, hey Cas, I almost didn't see you there. What brings you out on this cold night?” 

Castiel could see his face was pleasant in the moonlight. Castiel regarded him for a few moments, warmed at Dean’s welcoming smile, as he pondered what to say. 

“I could ask you the same.”

Dean chuckled. He was wrapped up in a scarf, toboggan, and a woolen coat tonight. “Sam has a study group over so I was just having a night out. I've been coming out later because of the teen fest in my apartment.”

So that is why Castiel had not seen him around much. He nodded then said, “I was late getting my work completed, but did not want to forget my walk.”

Dean nodded and pulled out his cigarettes. He fingered the package but did not take one out. He looked as if he was going to say something then just sighed.

Castiel thought he saw sadness cross the man's face but it was too dark. He wanted to ask but did not want to pry. Instead he asked, “Dean, what would you do if someone you cared about was acting out of character?”

Dean looked at him with his eyebrows up. “What do you mean?”

Castiel cleared his throat. “I mean, I know someone who used to be caring and loving. Full of laughter and joy. But has turned bitter and hostile.”

“Are you talking about me?” Dean had a confused look upon his face.

Castiel shook his head and held up a hand. “No, no. I have a, a friend. She was so nice before but now she gets angry so easily and is unhappy. I don't know when it happened.”

Dean scrunched up his face in concentration. He tapped his package of cigarettes with his fingers then said, “If she is a close friend, I would talk to her. Let her know you care. But don't be all creepy about it. And if she tells you off then maybe go to her close girl friend. I really don't know.”

Castiel nodded in disappointment but was grateful for the advice. It would not help him. He absent-mindedly rubbed his new scar forming on his chin. His right eye was just brown, green, and yellow now. He was glad he did not have any sight damage. Maybe if he put some makeup over it he could be presentable for the Holiday party next week.

“Hey. You okay? You zoned out, dude.”

Castiel looked at Dean and frowned. He did not realize he ‘zoned out’, but he did have a lot on his mind. He needed to talk to Amelia.

“I'm fine.”

“Okay. Well your face looks a lot better.” Dean pulled out a cigarette then and lit it with his lighter.

Castiel watched him and wondered what it would feel like to smoke. May he could ask for one; an experiment.

At that moment Dean turned to Castiel and said, “Don't ever start these. They are nasty and cost too damn much for what they are. And so damned hard to quit.”

Castiel was shocked by the statements, but nodded. He thought they helped Dean because he always seemed more relaxed when he was smoking.

They sat in silence for a while, not needing to talk. Dean stubbed out his cigarette and sighed. Castiel watched for falling stars.

Castiel pulled out his watch and checked the time. It was nearing nine. Amelia was going to be angry. Castiel stood and gave Dean the time.

“It's eight-forty-six. I need to get home,” he said quietly.

Dean looked at him. “Thanks, Cas. I'm gonna hang out here for a while. See you later.”

Castiel said goodbye. He finally decided that he did like the way Dean said his name. Cas. It was short and to the point and a lot easier to say. He had a half smile on his face as he replayed Dean last words, ‘Thanks, Cas… See you later.’ He felt a pang of loss as he walked away which caused him to frown. What was that? Need? Yearning? The want for human contact? Maybe yes to them all and he hated that.

*****


	5. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Year's pneumonia. Valentine's Day misses.
> 
> Cas is laid up, catches up, throws up, and nearly gives up... And Dean is there to save him.

*****

The new year found Cas in the hospital with pneumonia. Amelia had gotten so mad that she locked Cas out of the house after he left for his walk a couple of days after Christmas. He had been asking if he had gotten any mail. Mail was not delivered to their house because Amelia insisted that having a post office box was easier and kept their address more private. So he always had to wait until she got home for anything. Cas had hoped something would have come from Anna or Michael, as he had sent holiday cards this year. 

He was not tech savvy enough to figure out how to look any of his family up on the internet, plus, Amelia had the computer on a parental lock so he was limited where he could search. That night Cas had grown weary of her rants, thus he took a walk. Unfortunately, Amelia got angry.

Cas was not able to get back out to his bench until the middle of February. He wondered if Dean would still be going there or if he found another spot. Either way, Cas limped to his bench and sat down. The sun was setting later and Cas wanted to enjoy as much of the sun as he could. It was a Saturday and Amelia had left for her mother's early that morning. They would miss Valentine's day together, but the way Cas was feeling, he would not cry about it. 

Amelia had found out that Cas had been passed over for a promotion and took it out on him. She screamed at him for not being assertive enough, calling him a doormat. She dislocated his left knee and hit his head with a lead crystal bowl hard enough to knock him out for the night. He woke up on the living room floor hours later cold and hurting. 

The next morning, Amelia was kind enough to pop his knee back into place. She instructed him to elevate it and ice it every two hours. She put twenty-seven stitches in the laceration on the right side of his head. His vision was blurry and he felt nauseated as she helped him onto the couch. When he asked her about it Amelia said that was from his poor health due to the pneumonia and him being out of shape. He wanted to go to the ER, but Amelia slapped him and told him to stop being such a baby. She gave him some aspirin, told him not to get the stitches wet, clean up the mess, and she would be back next week.

Cas had napped for few hours then stumbled into the bathroom wishing he had a crutch or a cane. As he stood, balanced on his right leg, he stared at his blurry reflection in the mirror. The mirror must be getting old because his face was all wavy. Cas frowned at the red-brown blood that covered half his face and matted up what was left of his hair. Amelia had first cut his long locks then shaved nearly half, well maybe a quarter, it was hard to tell with all the blood, of his hair before she stitched up the nasty, jagged gash. It was angry and swollen. He sighed and washed the dried blood from his face, head, and hair the best he could. His head hurt so much he threw up the dry toast and water he had had that morning. 

He then cleaned the blood and crystal shards from the living room floor, stopping several times to let the room finish spinning. Cas napped a few hours more, and woke up hungry and nauseated. He tried for more toast but only got half of it down. He sat on the couch, head in hands and wished he had something stronger than aspirin for the pain. When he could not stand it any longer Cas wrapped his knee with an ace bandage, grabbed the broom handle he unscrewed from the brush, got one of Amelia’s scarves, and he left the house. He has been shocked that she had left him a set of keys but grateful nonetheless. Now at the park Cas blinked in the cold and shielded his eyes from the bright glare of the sun. He had hoped the sun and fresh air would clear up his fuzzy head. It was not working.

Cas cursed the clouds for the dark and the sun for the light. He hated whatever was making that buzzing sound. Maybe it was kids playing with those remote-controlled airplane things. Drones. Then when the buzzing went away, a high-pitched ringing took its place. 

What is with the park today? 

Cas looked around but could not tell that there was that many people there. He slumped down on his bench and closed his eyes, feeling his head and knee throb with his every heartbeat. A while later he heard a familiar voice.

“Hey, Cas! Long time, no see. Nice scarf.”

He felt the bench move. Dean. Cas remembered him. Cas lifted his head but did not open his eyes nor turn his head. 

“Hello, Dean,” he said as he touched the mint green scarf with the leaf pattern stitch. “And thank you. It's my, it's my wife's, she threw all mine away and I could, couldn't find my jacket. My head, my head, my head head gets cold.”

“What was wrong with yours? Either way, green is a good color on you.” Dean voice seemed to be happy today. It had been so long since they had last spoken.

Cas wanted to smile, however a spike was currently being drilled into his head and he was afraid his head would split open if he turned it. He opted for a nod and that was a mistake. He clutched his head to quell the pain.

“Hey, you okay?” Dean’s voice was now concerned.

“I'm fine, fine, fine, fine. Just dizzy. Just, just... It's so bright, bright, bright and… and dim, dark out here.” Cas could not stop his head from spinning.

“Haven't seen you awhile. You been traveling? Vacation?” 

Cas squinted at him, risking the movement, and saw that Dean's face was inquisitive, not probing. Like a friend.

Cas winced and inwardly cringed at the neediness he felt. He should not be feeling such things for anyone. No woman, no man. Yet here he was eager to talk to this man, seemingly overjoyed that he had shown up. Cas cleared his throat before he spoke.

“I contracted pneumonia at the turn of the new new new year and had to go, to go go go to the hospital. I have just been, just been been been, just been cleared to take my walks.” His statement was punctuated with a cough. His cough had lingered, though it was shallow and short, it hurt his head and made his stomach roll.

Dean leaned back as if to distance himself from Cas’ germs. He smiled and said, “Glad you are feeling better. You miss much work?”

Cas was now self-conscious. He bowed his head and looked at his hands; he forgot his gloves. He looked to his right out over the pond then across the field. He could just see the back of his house from here. Maybe he should go back home. He was not handling this well. He should leave. He rubbed his swollen knee with his red, cold hands. 

“I work from home home, home home, so I, so I, I, I, so I was only off, off-off work for three, for three days. Thank you for asking, Dean.”

Dean shifted on the bench. “Home? What do you do?”

Cas looked over at Dean again. Dean was fiddling with his package of cigarettes, but not taking one out. He was wearing the wool coat and toboggan again. Cas saw Dean’s hands and noticed that they were calloused and stained. He looked back at his soft and smooth hands. He missed working in the yard, feeling the dirt, growing flowers. 

“I am a tax, a tax, taxtaxtax, a tax accountant.”

Dean laughed. He had thrown back his head and laughed with his whole body. His laugh was pleasant at first then drove nails into Cas’ pounding head. 

Why was that so funny? 

Cas frowned at him. It was a good, respectable job. He did not think it was an occupation that would incite such ridicule. Cas turned away from Dean and tried to get up, bracing his hands on the bench. He had to put some distance between him and the stabbing sound coming from Dean.

“Hey, hey, sorry man. I didn't mean to offend. It's just, you're talking weird as fuck and I never actually knew anybody who actually did that. I can see it, though. You're so serious and stiff! Have you been drinking? ” He laughed a bit more then it faded away. His face turned from jovial to concerned. “Oh, shit. I'm sorry, man. I really don't know why I laughed so hard. I didn't mean to upset you.”

Cas sat back and looked at Dean. He saw a weird wavy halo all around Dean. He frowned. Yes, he was hurt, but not just by the laughter. He hated that he second guesses himself. He hated that it mattered what this man, this stranger, thought of him. He was nothing to Cas, and yet, he wanted Dean to like him. 

Damn it. Why am I bothering?

“I’m f-fine, fine, f-f--” Cas said. He wanted to leave but the world spun at that moment. “Wha-what do you, do you do... do?” He closed his eyes to block out the swirling colors. He did not notice he was leaning over his lap holding his head.

“I, um, I am a mechanic over on Oak and Harkrider. Haynes Automotive.” His voice sounded guarded, as if he was embarrassed.

Cas opened his eyes and wondered why he was looking at his feet. He sat up, rubbing his knee, and looked at Dean. He had an expression that Cas could not read. The sun was way too bright so he closed his eyes again. “I used to, used to to to ta-take my car there, there, there. They're, they're.. they are n-nnice, they are… people.”

Cas coughed and nearly threw up. He clutched his head to hold it steady as he looked over at Dean. His vision swam, everything was smeared in a smash up of colors. Cas shut his eyes against the assault. Both the buzzing and ringing noises were back, he covered his ears to block out the sounds but it did not help.

“Hey, Cas, are you okay? Damn dude, you don’t look right.” Dean’s words were laced with concern. “And you're still talking weird.”

Cas tried look at Dean again, tried to answer him. Why is the bench moving? He gripped the arm of the bench and took a couple of calming breaths. “I’m f-fine, fine. I am, I am I'm I'm just… a little, little diz… little dizzy.”

Slowly the world stopped moving so erratically. Cas was able to steady himself enough to open his eyes again. He flinched back when he saw how close Dean was now. Dean was squatting in front of Cas with his hands out, like he was going to grab Cas.

“What? I'm fi… fine.” Cas ran his fingers through his hair and knocked the scarf from his head. It revealed his new injury and his partial baldness on his right side. The red, jagged cut and black stitches shown in high contrast in the sunlight. What he did not see was the deep dark bruising spreading out about three inches all around the injury.

Dean gasped and asked, “What the hell happened?” 

Dean had stood and was bent over Cas staring at his head. Cas put his right hand over the cut. It felt hot and very tender. He was embarrassed at the scrutiny. He pushed at Dean with his left hand to get him to go away. He was glad Dean got the hint and backed up; however, when he did, Dean kicked Cas’ left foot and jostled his injured knee. Cas’ let out a pained yelp and clutched his leg.

“Hey Cas, I am sorry!” Dean looked like he was wanting to help but did not know where to put his hands.

“I n-nneed, need to go, to go h-home… home.” He pulled the scarf over his head again. He braced himself on the bench and tried stand but his knee would not support him. Cas ended up vomiting on his own feet.

“Fuck dude. Maybe you need a hospital?” Dean’s concern was almost palatable.

“Amel, Ame-healia sa-said I was a, was a baby. I not … we-weak, lazy… I have… hurts, I hurts.” Cas attempted to stand one more time. He had to get away before he embarrassed himself any more. He pushed and felt a pull.

“Need... h-home.” Cas feel like his head would explode at the slightest touch. Words were becoming hard.

“Where’s home?” Dean asked as he helped Cas to his feet. Dean was supporting him with Cas’ left arm over his shoulders and his right arm around Cas’ waist.

Cas’ vision swam again. He squeezed his eyes shut and pointed to his right. “The other… over... oth… side of, side side side of the p-pond. Blue, blue, blue... house… maple, maple in the yard.” 

Cas didn't know he was pointing into the park. Dean had turned him while maneuvering him to stand.

“Alright, I was going to drive you, but that is closer than my car. Let’s take this easy, one step at a time. Start on the right foot.” Dean had an authoritative voice that Cas responded to. 

Cas fell into a shuffle step with Dean and they slowly made progress. Cas opened his eyes every once in awhile to check they were going in the correct direction but otherwise kept his eyes closed. It was easier that way.

After what felt like an eternity, Dean was saying something. Cas didn't want to talk, he wanted to lay down and sleep. All along their trek Cas would drift in and out of consciousness. He had just drifted again when a deep, demanding voice hammered at him.

“--eys.”

“What?”

“I need your keys.” Dean voice was getting exasperated and short. “Keys.”

Cas could have cried right then. He made Dean angry. “I'm I'm ss-sorry sorry sorry. Pl-please, I don't-- Dean, D-dean, I be, I be better bb-better better. Please.” Cas had ended up pleading for forgiveness, for what, he had not clue. All he knew was that he hurt and this man was angry.

Hands pushed his back against a hard surface. Hands searched his clothing. A voice kept droning on making his eyes flutter open. Cas squinted at the violent attack of the sun on his eyes. Pain shot through his head, going from his eyes straight through the right side of his head. His knee and leg were screaming at him in agony. Cas groaned and whimpered.

“I sor-sorry.” He was moving again. He didn't know where he was. 

Why is it was so dark? Is this my house? When did I leave the park? I was out during the day! Amelia’s going to be furious!

“I sorry, I pr-promise to do, to do do do b-better. P’eaz ‘melia, don't... Y-you said not to, not leave, but it, but it was so n-nice out. Door, door, door... unlocked. P’eaz no, no h-hit hit hit me, again.” Cas tried to get up, for some reason he was lying down. Hands held him down. Cas raised his hands and arms to protect himself against the oncoming attack.

“Cas. Cas! It's Dean.” 

A man's voice was coming from his wife. Cas was going crazy. His hearing was failing him, though it was hard to hear with that constant ringing in his ears. 

“I sorry, he from, from, from par-park. A fr-friend, friend, please don't...” Cas cried as the hands held him down.

“Cas! What are you talking about? Cas, it's me, Dean.”

“Dean? Dean, de-?”

Cas slowly moved his arms from in front of his face. Amelia never called him Cas. She liked James, his middle name. She thought Castiel was too stuffy and self righteous. He always thought of himself as Castiel until Dean came into his life. His family had callled him Cassie, but she shot that down when he suggested it. 

That's it. She hates my family. Amelia has always hated my family. 

Cas placed his hands over his face and cried. “I sorry. S-sorry. sorry…” He heard a distant voice, a man's voice, calling to him, but he could not answer. His sobs faded as he lost consciousness.

****

Cas was once again sitting on his park bench enjoying the sunshine. He knew it was sunny because he could feel the warmth on his skin. He shifted and felt a hand on his left forearm. He flinched but stayed still.

“Those ducks are on the pond again today,” a familiar steady voice told him. “The ones with the colorful feathers--”

“Wood ducks,” Cas interrupted. 

“Yes, Wood ducks. Some brown ducks are swimming amongst them.”

“Those are the females. It is commonly mistaken that the females are the ones, the ones, ones, ones to attract mates, but it's the males who have, who have, have have have to do the attracting, to prove they are, they are worthy.” Cas spewed out information he pulled from something he watched or read. It was like a free flow of data he could not stop. 

“How, how how, how hh-hhow many dogs out, dogs dogs today? I hear, hear, hearhear, hear them,” he asked expectantly. His speech had been affected by his head injury, some form of Palilalia the doctor told them. He repeated words or phrases, like a stutter, but without many issues with pronunciation. Cas himself did not realize he was doing it.

“Yes, the there are two out in field. A large brown dog playing fetch with a little girl, and a small black and tan dog chasing after a group of boys and girls. They are all laughing and having a good time.”

Cas smiled, he heard the laughter and barks and placed his hand over the one on his forearm. It was a nice feeling, a feeling he needed to ground him. Touch. He never knew how much he missed it until after he woke up in the the hospital. He wished he could see the dogs and kids, but the doctor said his bandages would not come off for another week. 

“Hey, you two,” a female voice called out to them. “Ready for lunch? Sam and Dean are here with the food.”

Cas smiled and turned towards his sister. He was so happy to find out that his family did not hate him like his wife, his ex-wife, had told him. He had a pang in his stomach when he thought of Amelia.

Cas felt a strong hand on his back and arm. He was helped up and was given a shoulder to lean on. 

“I can, I can, can, cancan, I can use my cane, Michael,” Cas said, although he was clutching his brother's arm as if he was going to run away.

“I know you can, but I want to help,” said Michael as he turned them toward the picnic area. “I'm just sorry I didn't try harder to find you.”

Cas stopped his limping progress. He turned to his brother the best he could. “It's not your, not your fault, Michael. Amelia was the one, the one the one to hide your correspondences and lock, lock, locklock, and lock down the internet. I let her lock me, lock me in the house all day, every day. I should have tried harder,” his voice broke. Cas had started to cry.

Michael did something he had never done before. He hugged his younger brother. Cas was hesitant, but then he wrapped his arms around Michael and squeezed. He didn't want to let go. 

After he passed out in his house back in February, Dean had called 911. He was scared but knew Cas needed help. Cas had to have emergency surgery to release the pressure that was building up on his brain. The blow to the head was more serious than he or Amelia realized. Also, Cas had to have surgery on his left knee to fix the damage. Cas had to spend another five weeks in the hospital for additional surgeries and recovery. Physical therapy was making slow progress, but helping.

During that time Dean tried to find out who Cas really was since Cas did not have any identification on him. Dean was able to find Cas’ wallet and an emergency contact. It was not his wife. Michael Novak. He made the call. It was found out later that Amelia had had all of Cas’ family blocked on their account so he could not call them nor could they call him.

Michael was a lawyer along with his sister Anna. They flew in from California as soon as they found out. They learned so many things while Cas was laid up and nearly in a coma. They found evidence of Amelia’s abuse and when Cas was lucid enough they started to talk. By the time Amelia came home, nearly three weeks later, Cas was ready to file for divorce. It was ugly.

Now it was early June and Cas was free. He became friends with Dean and his younger brother Sam. He got reacquainted with his brother and sister. He found out Anna had been sending letters every month in an effort to find him. And both had been sending holiday letters. Amelia had been throwing them away. Neither had gotten any of Cas' letters.

Cas smiled wider as he heard the others fussing and laughing at their picnic site. He felt another pair of hands help him sit and Anna sat close to help him eat. He hated that he still needed help because his hands shook and his coordination was awful. Cas had some brain damage which affected his fine motor skills and memory along with his speech. But for the most part he was still himself and he was grateful.

“When are you gonna get cleared to take your walks again?” Dean asked around a mouthful of food. “I miss my bench buddy.”

Cas laughed. Dean came over to Cas’ house practically every day since, but he understood what Dean was really getting at. Cas smiled.

“Of course. Someone has to be there to give you the time.”

*****

The end.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Susanne Becker for betaing this work. She is a great help.


End file.
